The Song Remains the Same
by coolbyrne
Summary: A song. A memory. A hope. And Sara singing??


TITLE: The Song Remains the Same

AUTHOR: coolbyrne

CATEGORY: GSR

RATING: PG

SPOILERS: Cool Change

DISTRIBUTION: If you like it, by all means.

DISCLAIMER: It's bad karma to sue someone who has no money, and will have no money even after writing this fic. All credit (and money) goes to AZ, CBS, WP, JB, JF, et al.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: While it's conceit to ever think they might read this, kudos to WP and JF for breathing life into two characters I can actually care about, in a fictional sense, of course. Lyrics to "Hungry Heart" are reprinted with kind permission from Bruce Springsteen. –pause- Yeah, right. They are reprinted w/o permission, so please, Mr. Boss, do not sue me. As well, I am so bad when it comes to thinking up titles. So you're stuck with a Led Zeppelin reference, because that just happened to be playing at the time. Feel fortunate; it was very nearly "Ramble On". However, that would be more applicable to me than the story.

And once again, a huge debt to my beta reader, papiliondae.

FEEDBACK: Compliments and constructive criticism greatly appreciated. Flames will be mocked in other forums. Send any combination of the above to: fugitive@ihateclowns.com

SUMMARY: A song, a memory, a hope.

*

He was on his way to Trace when he heard it. Softly at first; so softly it made him stop abruptly in the hallway, fearful that he was experiencing another loss of hearing. But no, as he leaned closer to where the sound seemed to be emanating, it wasn't muffled, just low. Covering the few extra steps to the door of the room, Grissom discovered the source of the sound.

Sara Sidle.

"…river that don't know where it's flowin', I took a wrong turn and I just kept goin'…"

Not bothering to suppress his smile, Grissom leaned against the frame of the door, surreptitiously allowing himself the pleasure of observing her.

Sitting forward in what could not be called an ergonomically recommended position, she rested her left elbow on the keyboard drawer, her chin cupped in her left hand. Her right hand formed around the computer mouse, motionless except for the frequent clickclick of her index finger on the button. From his position, he couldn't quite see the computer screen, and thus had no idea what it was she was looking for or at, but whatever it was, she wasn't reading, but scrolling. Click. Click. Click.

"… everybody's got a hungry heart, everybody's got a hungry heart…"

Her leg bounced, completely out of sync to the Springsteen song she was singing, but it didn't surprise Grissom. In all the time he had known her he couldn't recall a moment where she'd been entirely still. 

He smiled as a memory, long before Las Vegas, sprang unbidden to his mind. She'd been so enthusiastic during his seminar that she had lingered on afterwards, peppering him with questions. Her disarming enthusiasm and intellect captured his attention and he invited her to join him for coffee. Their conversation was intense and wide-ranging; time flew by unheeded and they were still absorbed when the coffee shop closed for the night. He remembered inviting her back to his room, neither giving any thought to the situation beyond two people drawn to each other by intellect. He offered openly and honestly, and she accepted in the same way. 

She sat on the floor, back resting comfortably against the couch. He sat across from her in an easy chair, a coffee table between them serving as a makeshift drum kit when her hands weren't being used to put emphasis on a thought or word. Three o'clock in the morning came and went without notice or complaint by either of them. He had gotten up to make some coffee, and when he had come back, he found her, head resting on folded arms, asleep on the coffee table. Motionless, except for the intermittent tapping of the fingers on her right hand, as if her synapses were sending out continual Morse code.

"Sara?" No response. He gently shook her shoulder. "Sara.

Her head jerked up. "I was just resting my eyes," she claimed, though her sleepy voice betrayed her.

He laughed and shook his head. "Come on. It's late. You can stay here. The bedroom's that way; I'll take the couch."

"No, no," she protested, "I'm not kicking you out of your bed." In response to his raised eyebrows and the twitch of his mouth, she amended, "I'll take the couch."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm the man. I'll take the couch."

"Oh, that's very nice of you, Mr. Caveman."

He crossed his arms in front of him. "Why is it when men do something mannerly that women don't agree with, the men are Neanderthals, but when it's something the women want, we're gentlemen?" She rolled her eyes. Smiling, he reached out his hand. "I'll help you up. Or is that too caveman-ish for you?"

She refrained from actually sticking out her tongue at him, and instead she reached for his proffered hand and attempted to stand… and discovered her legs had fallen asleep. Grissom reached around her waist before she had the time to fall back to the floor.

"You're heavier than you look."

"I'd kick you in the shin if my legs would work, Mr. Manners." She hobbled a bit, testing her strength.

"Come on, I'll help you."

They made their way to the bedroom, in the midst of a giggling fit from Sara, who remarked, "We must look like one hell of a pair."

He could only shake his head. "You're not helping me here," which, of course, only got her laughing more.

Finally making their way to the bed, he held her up with one arm and pulled the blankets back with the other.

"Gee, most guys only walk me to the door."

Choosing to ignore her joke, he put both arms on her shoulders, and pushed her down into a sitting position. "Get in, you."

Dutifully doing as she was told, Sara flopped down into the pillow. Grissom bent and lifted her legs under the sheets. As he pulled the blanket up, he was amazed to find she was already asleep. He tucked it under her chin and took the time to smooth out the worry lines on her brow, which still seemed to be active in concentration, as if even in her sleep, she was still trying to solve a problem. Seeing her lips twitch and tic, he smiled and wondered if she talked in her sleep.

He never found out.

***

They were very nearly inseparable during his entire stay, but it never evolved beyond mentor and student. Or so he thought.

She drove him to the airport on his last day, uncharacteristically silent. Even her physical quirks he had grown accustomed to were unusually muted. As they chatted over coffee in the airport lounge, he was aware of something absent; the spark that had so easily drew him to her was missing. And yet, while he could see this and recognize this, he had no idea how to bring it back. It wasn't until they stood at the gate that it burst out.

She threw her arms around his shoulders and held on tightly. "I miss you already."

Recovering from his shock, he curled his arms around her waist and slid them up her back. "Sara. Sara."

His gesture only brought more tears.

Moments passed, her emotions subsided and she pulled away. "Sorry," she said, avoiding his eyes.

His hands came to rest on her shoulders and he gave a gentle squeeze. "Hey." When there was no response, he bent slightly and looked into her face. "Hey. There's nothing to be sorry about."

She looked at him and gave a wobbly smile. The intercom chose that moment to crackle to life and give the final boarding call for his flight. He looked up at the ceiling, as if cursing the source. Her smile became stronger and actually grew into a laugh. She reached up and held onto his wrists. Now it was her turn to give a gentle squeeze.

"You should go," she said.

"Yeah."

Chance gave no room for planning, and meeting this girl at this time and this place in his life was something he had never expected. He was always better when faced with probability rather than possibility. And so he let the moment pass him by.

He reached down and grabbed his bags. Giving her one last smile, he walked to the gate. Before making that final step towards the plane, he heard her voice.

"Grissom! If you ever need me, call."

***

And now, there she was, sitting not ten feet in front of him, precisely because he had done as she had offered. He had called her.

"… we took what we had and we ripped it apart, now here I am down in Kingstown again.."

She hummed her way through the chorus this time, her mind temporarily distracted as she reached over to grab the can of Coke. The song stopped abruptly when she took a sip, but returning the can to its original place, she picked up the song where she left off.

Grissom smiled at the image. Sara, the multi-tasker. But if he was honest with himself, he'd have to admit she was more than that to him. Student, protégé, colleague, friend… he stopped himself in mid-thought, afraid to go any further. 

He had called her, she had come. Wasn't that enough for him? Remembering their first conversation in Las Vegas, he realized now that it wasn't all the unanswered whys that kept him up at night; it was all the unanswered what ifs. What if he had done something differently in San Francisco? What if he had done something differently when she arrived in Las Vegas? What if things were different then? And if he allowed the conceit, what if things were different now?

Yet, above all else, it wasn't even the past that gnawed at him these days. It was the future. His future. With work, with Sara, with his hearing. His hearing, that was being gracious enough to stay with him at this moment, so he could store away her voice for a time when he wouldn't be able to hear it anymore.

Her voice cut through his melancholy, gently wafting across his mind. She really does have a lovely voice, he thought.

"Everybody needs a place to rest, everybody wants to have a home, don't make no difference what nobody says, every doggie needs to have a bone."

Sara started at the snort of laughter from the door.

"Jesus, Grissom! You scared me half to death! How long have you been standing there?"

He regained enough composure to admit, "Long enough to discover you like the Boss, despite the ad-lib at the end."

"It's the poor grammar at the end that always throws me off," she smirked, finding the ability to breathe again.

Tilting his head in the direction of the computer, he asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm researching that pancake syrup we found at the crime scene. Trying to find out if it's regional or if we can pinpoint it to a specific distributor." Seeing his look of disbelief, she said, "What? We're at a dead end and I thought I might as well try it."

Grissom regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment. Apparently satisfied, he nodded, a silent decision made. "Okay. But why don't you leave that for a while and take a break with me. I've got to run these prints down to Trace, and then I'm going to grab a coffee."

"You want to have coffee. With me," she pieced together doubtfully.

"Well, if you'd rather not." He tapped the file against the frame of the door and began to walk away.

"Hey, wait up!"

He stopped and smiled. When she arrived at his side, she said, "Sorry. I just wasn't expecting…" In order to cover up her fluster, she reached across him to grab the file. "So, how are we doing on this case?"

He reached across and took it right back. "I don't want to talk about the case. I'm on a break."

"Yeah, sure. You, not wanting to talk about a case?" She shot him a glance. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Very funny. And no, I don't want to talk about the case right now. And yes, I'm fine."

"Well, what do you want to talk about then?"

Pursing his lips and holding back the grin, he innocently tossed out, "I'd like to talk about where you learned how to sing."

She made a face and rolled her eyes. "Right. I bet you could have lived without ever hearing my voice, huh?"

He stopped in mid-stride and waited for her to take two steps back. When he had her full attention, he looked into her eyes and said softly, "No, I couldn't have lived without hearing your voice." 

With that, he resumed his walking. Realizing she was nowhere to be found beside him, he turned and saw her rooted to the spot where he had left her.

"Coming?"

She shook her head as if breaking out of a reverie. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm there." Back at his side, she leaned into his shoulder and gave a playful nudge. "Wait until you hear me sing Led Zeppelin."

-end.

Hungry Heart by Bruce Springsteen

Got a wife and kids in Baltimore, Jack

I went out for a ride and I never went back

Like a river that don't know where it's flowin'

I took a wrong turn and I just kept goin'

Chorus:

Everybody's got a hungry heart

Everybody's got a hungry heart

Lay down your money and you play your part

Everybody's got a hungry heart

I met her in a Kingstown bar

We fell in love, I knew it had to end

We took what we had and we ripped it apart

Now here I am down in Kingstown again

Chorus

Everybody needs a place to rest

Everybody wants to have a home

Don't make no difference what nobody says

Ain't nobody like to be alone


End file.
